


White Horse

by Malvacerra



Category: The Two Princes (Podcast)
Genre: Erections, Fluff, M/M, Romance, Tickling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-19
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-09-07 13:04:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20309977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malvacerra/pseuds/Malvacerra
Summary: On their way home from the climactic confrontation, Rupert and Amir stop for a quick break.





	White Horse

Rupert blinked, his eyes adjusting to the late afternoon glare, and lifted his head from Amir’s shoulder.

“Had a good nap?”

“Oh.” He looked around at the heather and scrub of the moor, then at the gently bowed, snow white figure of Amir’s horse grazing in the near distance. “Sorry I dozed off; it’s just been so many days of barely sleeping—not to mention all the walking—and that fight in the hollow really took a lot out of me—”

“It’s okay.” Amir chuckled, flipped onto his side to face him, and cupped the back of Rupert’s head with his free hand. “Really.”

“Also, riding your horse is kind of like being rocked like a baby in his mama’s arms.”

“Interesting analogy,” Amir said, still smiling. “Yeah, when I noticed you nodding off, I stopped us and laid you down here. I don’t think you even stirred while I was carrying you.”

Rupert rubbed his eyes. “What’s his name again?”

“Averroes.” Amir glanced over his shoulder at the stallion. “I knew he’d come back once the influence of the forest dissipated.”

“Can I just note how fitting it is that you ride a freaking white horse?” Rupert sat up and stretched, touching his fingertips to the apex of the sky.

“I know, right? And if I’d known I’d be meeting my future husband, I’d have worn my suit of shining armor, too.”

“You know what, Amir?”

“What?”

“You have way more of a sense of humor when the world’s no longer imploding all around us. Funny how that works.”

“Imagine that.” Amir ran his fingers over the carpet of grass and cornflowers between them. “Although—”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never had much time for joking around before now. Even as a little kid. My earliest memories are of my mom, the chamberlain, my tutors, all impelling me to austere excellence. These last few days are the most I’ve laughed in my entire life.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet.” Rupert reached for Amir’s hand. “I’m glad I make you laugh.”

“Don’t worry, you do. Even if it’s not always intentional on your part.”

He slapped Amir’s hand away and dove forward onto him, knocking him back into the grass. Amir closed his eyes and giggled as Rupert straddled him and pinned his wrists to the ground.

“What was that, mister?”

“I—ah—”

Rupert released Amir’s right arm and reached down, tickling his fiancé along the sliver of exposed skin between his jerkin and breeches. Amir convulsed underneath him and gasped for breath between his laughs.

“Please, mercy!”

A piercing screech shattered the pastoral quiet. Rupert let his hand fall still over Amir’s navel and looked in its direction.

“Porridge?” Rupert leaned back against Amir’s legs as the dragonling bounded towards them. “What’s wrong?”

Porridge stopped at their side and looked at Rupert quizzically, then Amir. Jets of near-scalding air rose from his nostrils as he sniffed along the line of Amir’s body.

“He probably thinks we were fighting,” Amir observed. He wiped the tears from his cheeks and lifted his head a few inches off the ground. “You should reassure him.”

“It’s okay, Porridge,” Rupert said, patting the bony crest of his head. “We’re just playing. Like you and I do with the stick.”

“Well, not exactly like that,” Amir said, shifting beneath him.

“I don’t know,” Rupert said. He was suddenly aware of the hardness in Amir’s breeches poking against his thigh. “I could grab a stick right now if I wanted.”

“Rupert—” Amir covered his face with his hands and let his head fall to the earth again.

“Go on, boy.” Rupert patted Porridge’s neck. “Go say hi to Averroes.”

He watched the dragonling amble across the moorland, bound for the white steed.

“I think they like each other,” he said, turning back to Amir.

“I’m sorry,” Amir murmured, through his hands.

“Sorry?”

“I hope I didn’t make you feel uncomfortable. It’s just the, uh, friction. And maybe the elation of saving the world and meeting the guy I’m going to spend the rest of my life with.”

“You didn’t make me feel uncomfortable, Amir.” Rupert pulled his floppy hair away from his eyes and looked at Amir’s taut body, surrounded by the celadon and cream and violet of the wildflowers and grass. “I’m still sitting on you, aren’t I?”

Amir removed his hands from his face and snorted. “It seems so.”

“Besides,” Rupert added, as he swung his leg over Amir’s waist and rolled over to lie down next to him, “I’m your boyfriend and fiancé. It would probably be more worrying if you hadn’t, um, sprouted a stick.”

“Stop calling it that,” Amir groaned. “Need I remind you that our evil fathers—whom we only vanquished about eight hours ago—were a couple of gnarled trees?”

“Sorry.” Rupert grinned and ran his fingers through Amir’s hair, clearing out the stray bits of grass from the field below. “Hey, Amir?”

Amir looked up at him, his fulvous eyes warm and resplendent in the afternoon light. “Yeah?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rupert.”

Amir craned his neck up to kiss him, then lay back and stared up at the wispy, wandering clouds. From somewhere further down the slope, Averroes let out a whinny of pleasure as he chased Porridge in circles. Soon enough, they’d have to pick themselves up and continue their journey back to civilization, but for now Rupert wanted nothing more than to lie there in the sunshine, studying the perfect stillness of Amir’s face.


End file.
